


Every Kiss Was a Stitch In Their Fabric

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Angst, Arguments, Body Swap, Break Up, Cabeswater - Freeform, Communication, Fucking, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Miscommunication, Reference to Child Abuse, Reference to self harm, Smut, Soulmarks, Soulmates, Working things out, cabeswater magical sex, canon diversions, prompt fills, reference to suicide, soul marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: I decided on the last day of Pynch Week 2018 that I would do the fic prompts, so I sat down and wrote them all at once, and therefore, I shall post them all at once.Each chapter will have its own summary.1- Soulmate marks AU2- "That's Not What I Mean"3-Summer4-Getting Back Together5-Body Swap6-Thunderstorm//Indulgence7-Midnights8-free choice (Ethan Parrish)





	1. Skinbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmates marks AU   
> This story contains references to child abuse, to self harm, to attempted suicide.
> 
> “It’s ok, Gansey,” Adam says, miraculously finds himself no longer upset at the topic at hand, finds himself letting his tongue move freely, “I get it. It’s exciting. I’m - I’m happy for you - but - “  
> “But?” Gansey says, shifts his gaze to look at Adam, eyes narrowed and keen.  
> “My soulmate is dead,” Adam says simply, shrugs his shoulders

Soulmarks was something Adam had learned about in school rather than through real life experience. It was introduced to him in kindergarten with bright picture books depicting a young boy tripping and grazing his knee, and then seeing a pretty girl with a bleeding knee  _ just like his _ . It was expanded on in primary where he learned more facts and figures about it, that 50% of people had a soulmate mark, but that  _ of course _ not having someone you’re bound to by skin didn’t mean you didn’t have a soulmate. Highschool brought in the biology behind it, the puzzles around it, the harsh reality that most people actually didn’t find their soulmates. You either had to be rich or very lucky. He read about the hypotheses that everyone had soulmates, but some people’s soulmates had already lived and died, and some hadn’t been born yet and wouldn’t be until their soulmate was dead. 

The thing was, Adam couldn’t help but hope he might be one of the lucky few. The 50%, and then, within the 50%, the lucky, lucky few. The  _ thing was _ , it’s so hard to tell if you’re receiving your soulmates marks when you are constantly covered in bruises and cuts and injuries of your own.  How is Adam meant to know if his grazed knee is his own or not when he almost constantly has grazed knees anyway. How is he supposed to know? So. He has hope. He has hope, but, as he gets older, 12, 13, 14, 15 - he starts, not exactly to lose hope, but to hope the opposite. That he isn’t bound by his skin to someone else, because he can only begin to imagine how horrified they must be to be receiving all his injuries on their skin. How awful that must be to watch their own skin mottle and ruin and bleed phantom blood. 

Maybe this horror also leads to his firm belief that his child self is a fool to have ever believed so fervently that he could be skinbound. If the universe is what granted these marks, then the universe must have seen him, so battered, so weak, and realised he wouldn’t be good for anyone. 

 

This is what Adam believed at 16. That he would never see a mark on his skin that he could prove was not his, even to himself, because there would never be a soulmate for him. It made sense. 

-

He’s asleep when it happens. 

He wakes up, of course, because the pain is blinding and sickening, and for a long dizzy moment he doesn’t know what’s going on. He thinks maybe his father has arrived home, drunk and enraged, and come to Adam’s room to take it out on him. He thinks maybe his body is finally just giving up, is tired of being a boxing bag, is killing itself. It’s the wetness of his sheets, of his chest, the slickness of it all that clues him in, and he sits up quickly on his bed, fumbling for the bedside lamp. 

His bed is wet and red with blood, dark, and pulsing, and even as Adam looks at the gashes in his arms that are producing the blood, he watches as more are drawn into his skin. 

He doesn’t know what is worse; finding out you have a soulmate only because they’re killing themselves, or, the blinding pain it’s causing. He does know. It’s the first. He’s used to physical pain. 

He finds himself pressing his hands, his blankets, uselessly against he cuts, attempting to stem the flow of blood. This is useless, because it isn’t his blood, and while the blood will seem as if it is seeping into his blankets and dripping down his skin now, he knows it will disappear later, like the dark cuts in his skin. He doesn’t know this from experience, obviously, but because it is a course of study in science, and he, like all the other students at Mountain High, had taken an exam on soulmate marks just last year. Within the next 24 hours, Adam’s arms would be as smooth as they ever were - not very - and within the next half hour, any blood spilled would be gone. For now though, he’s stuck pressing his thin blanket into the thick cuts, biting down against his upper arm because, god, it hurts like all hell, but also because, _god_ _it hurts like all hell_. 

 

It makes sense, he thinks vaguely, mind muzzy with pain and grief, that he would be the 50% who has a soulmate, but would also be one of the unlucky few who watches their soulmate die. This is what life did to Adam Parrish, it pretended to give, and then, very quickly, it took away. This is what it always did. When he was six, his grandmother had come to Henrietta to take Adam to her flat in DC. She wanted him to live with her, she offered to pay for all his schooling. His parents had agreed. All the arrangements were made. She died the night before they left, a heart attack. Strange for someone in their 60s, but certainly not unheard of. Like his dreams of going to Aglionby. He got in on scholarship, he persuaded his parents to let him go if he paid for the extra himself, if he didn’t slack on his chores. He got the extra jobs he would need to pay it. His father broke his arm the day before classes started. He couldn’t go to work to earn the money he would need. He couldn’t go to Aglionby. He continued his life at Mountain View. Like now. Where Adam knows, 100%, that he has a soulmate. That he is worthy of having a soulmate, and his soulmate? Is dying. Is dying. Is dying. 

-

He does not sleep at all that night. Instead, he watches as more and more blood leaves his body, knowing that it is not his blood, but feeling fainter and fainter anyway. He watches as the bleeding stops. He watches as the cuts are pulled back together, skin to skin, sharp searing pricks as some unknown hand stitches the skin until it is lumpy and red but no longer gaping. He does not bother hoping that the paramedics got there in time. He had felt how much blood had poured over him and his sheets. His wrists sting and ache and  _ hurt _ all day, and he hides them under long sleeves because how is he meant to explain that? And then, as he knew it would, they disappear from his skin. He’s left with nothing but the tar like feeling in his stomach, heavy, sticky, black, that somewhere out there his soulmate is dead, and that maybe? It was because they just couldn’t take the pain Adam was unconsciously giving them day by day, week by week. It sickens him to his core. 

-

He works hard. He has no romantic dream to chase now, so he gets back on his academic horse with more vigour, anger, despair, fueling him. He applies for the scholarship to Aglionby again. He has to appear at least three times better than he had last time, because now he’s let them down already and they’ll be less inclined to accept him. He starts his extra jobs before he gets any news back from Aglionby. He saves more money. He works hard. He works hard. He works hard. His biggest relief is that at least? Now, when his father bruises him, smashes his face into the ground, breaks bottles on his ribs? Now no one else has to feel it. He gets into Aglionby. 

-

He meets Richard Gansey Campbell III his very first day of Aglionby. The name itself is enough to put Adam off of him entirely, and the overly polished and shiny nature of Gansey’s very being is more than enough to overfill Adam with a need to get away, but somehow? Somehow Gansey ends up sitting with him in class, and then at lunch, and then trailing him out to the carpark. 

 

“No offense,” Adam says as he reaches his bike, where it’s chained to the otherwise empty bike rack. Everyone else here either lives on campus, or has a big and shinily expensive car parked here. “But you don’t strike me as someone friendless. Why are you hanging out with me?” 

Gansey waves away Adam’s confusion, and laughs. “Well,” he says, “this isn’t why I’m hanging out with you, I would hang out with you anyday, Adam Parrish, but, usually I’m with my friend Ronan. You might have heard of him? Ronan Lynch? He’s not at school today.” 

Adam might have heard a few grumbled comments about Lynch, mostly from teachers taking the roll, but that didn’t mean he knew who he was. 

 

“So,” Adam says, unchains his bike slowly, “when this Lynch gets back, I should expect you to sit on the other side of the cafetaria to me?” 

 

“Adam,” Gansey gasps, “I am a little offended, and a little confused, because from what I’ve seen of you in class today, you are smarter than that. I’m saying that I want to be your friend, whether or not my other friends are here.” 

 

Adam thinks that Gansey is entirely too earnest. He also thinks that there’s no one else he’s met at this school that he can stand. He smiles at Gansey. 

-

Lynch isn’t at school, which means that Adam and Gansey get to spend a lot of quality time together, occasionally joined by Gansey’s other friends - Noah, Henry, Chad(?), Charles(possibly Chad?), Jameson - but more often alone, which Adam prefered, and Gansey appeared to prefer as well because it means he gets to sit there and ask Adam all sorts of homeworky questions and blather on at Adam about all sorts of strange history things, while, when his other friends are here he talks more about Rowing, or the parties people want him to go to. So. Lynch isn’t at school, isn’t at school, isn’t at school, and then very suddenly, on the third day of the second week of Adam’s first term at Aglionby, Lynch is there. 

-

“Well, well,” Whelk says dryly, about five minutes into the Latin class when the door slams open and a tall, and un-uniformed boy slumps in, “if it isn’t Lynch, our black sheep, back at last. Did your brother finally corral you into joining your betters again?” 

 

Lynch spits something angry, and Latin sounding at Whelk, who stares back unimpressed, and points at the chair beside Gansey. Adam assumes that that chair was where Lynch usually sat. The one problem here is that Adam is currently sitting in it. Gansey glances at him, and Adam is unsure whether he ought to get up and shift for Lynch, or if he should just stay where he is. Gansey hadn’t minded him sitting here so far, after all. Lynch is scowling at him. 

 

“Just stay there,” Gansey says to him, and then, raises his voice, “Ronan,” he says, “come sit down for God’s sake. The desk behind us is empty.” 

 

Ronan Lynch looks like he might be about to turn and leave, but, with one more vitriol filled glance at Whelk, he stomps down the room to Gansey and Adam. Adam avoids looking at him, certain that Ronan will be looking angrily at him again. Instead, he listens as Ronan drops his bag heavily onto the chair behind him, and then heavier, drops himself into the chair behind Gansey, then, heavier still, drops his head onto the desktop. Gansey turns in his seat to say something to Ronan, voice low, but then Whelk is joining them. 

 

“Get back to work, boys,” he directs Gansey and Adam, and then to Ronan, “I hope you have a very good excuse for not only your absence, your tardiness, and lack of manners, but also your clothes.” 

 

Adam doesn’t hear Ronan say anything, but by the sound of Whelk’s hissed anger, he assumes Ronan has answered non-verbally, manually instead. 

 

“Stay behind after class,” Whelk snaps, “we’re going to see Principal Child’s.” 

 

“Joy,” Ronan says, toneless. 

-

So. His first meeting of Ronan Lynch is not a fantastic one. It really truly isn’t. He doesn’t want to get to know Ronan better. So, it’s a pity really, that the only person Adam likes enough to spend his time with is Gansey, and that is apparently how Ronan feels as well. He feels like he and Ronan are both orbiting Gansey, and, that sooner or later, they’re going to change courses and collide into each other. Disastrously, most likely. 

 

Amazingly, this doesn’t happen. Or, not as soon as he assumes it will. He and Ronan argue, almost constantly whenever they’re in the same room, yes, but they don’t ruin things, they don’t create a rift big enough that Gansey has to choose between the two of them. It’s fine. Not ideal - but fine. Adam can deal with Ronan. It turns out, that what Adam can’t deal with, is Gansey, which is a surprise. 

-

It’s not exactly Gansey himself that Adam finds himself having an issue with, about three months after Adam had first arrived at Aglionby, it isn’t. Gansey can be a bit dense about a lot of things, but usually he and Adam work their way around it. Today, Gansey is not picking up on the fact that the conversation topic he’s picked to talk about at length while sitting on the floor of his strange apartment - Monmouth - in the middle of his stranger project - a miniature and cardboard version of Henrietta - is a topic that Adam does not want to talk about at all or ever. 

 

“I know it’s barely anything,” Gansey is saying, “but I’ve always felt so deep in my soul that I was skinbound? I felt in my heart of hearts that I couldn’t have been given another chance when I was young to not have someone waiting for me. It felt like the universe was like, hang on there, young man, there’s someone waiting out there for you - you wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?” 

 

Ronan grunts from somewhere over by the couch. It’s obvious that he’s heard at least part of this spiel before. “Get to it Gansey,” he says, gruff, “what the fuck is it you wanted to say?” 

 

Adam doesn’t say anything. He’s laid all his homework out on the floor in front of him, his head bowed low over his books so he can act like he’s not even paying attention. He doesn’t want Gansey to talk to him about this. 

 

“Look,” Gansey says, is saying this to both Adam and Ronan. Adam doesn’t look. “See that graze up my elbow? I didn’t do that. It happened while I was in the bathroom. Not grazing myself. This is proof - this is proof that I am skin bound.” 

 

“Congratulations,” Ronan says dryly. “You and millions of other people. You know most soulmates don’t find each other?” 

 

“I’ve been told I’m very good at finding things, thank you very much,” Gansey says tersely, “and don’t be so blase about it, Ronan, I know being skinbound is old hat to you, but it’s exciting to  _ me _ -” 

 

This is interesting in many ways. For one, Ronan has never mentioned anything about soulmates, or being skinbound, but it sounds like Gansey is implying that he’s already had proof that he is. For another, at Gansey’s words, Ronan leaps up, like a cat sprayed with water. The thumping is enough to get Adam to look up from his maths. 

Gansey’s arm is still bared, and Adam can see the long graze, pebbling over with scabbing. Ronan is standing by the couch, shoulders hunched under his hoodie, face furious, eyebrows drawn low. 

 

“You know it’s -” Ronan begins, glances at Adam and seems to think better of whatever thing he was about to say, finishes with a hissed; “fuck you, man,” and stomps out of the room to slam himself shut in his bedroom. 

 

Adam looks back at Gansey, who’s holding onto his arm, just above the graze. 

 

Gansey speaks in a low voice, eyes fixed on the spot Ronan had disappeared from. 

 

“Ronan is touchy about soulmates,” he says, “for good reason. I shouldn’t have brought it up around him. I - I’m sorry about that. I was just so - I’m excited -” 

 

“It’s ok, Gansey,” Adam says, miraculously finds himself no longer upset at the topic at hand, finds himself letting his tongue move freely, “I get it. It’s exciting. I’m - I’m happy for you - but - “ 

 

“But?” Gansey says, shifts his gaze to look at Adam, eyes narrowed and keen. 

 

“My soulmate is dead,” Adam says simply, shrugs his shoulders, “I felt it happen. So I - I’m not going to storm out of the room as well, but I’d prefer we didn’t talk about it.” 

 

“Oh,” Gansey says, his face going through so many emotions at once it was like watching a whole movie, “Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry, I -” 

 

“No,” Adam says firmly, “it’s fine. I’d prefer not to talk about it.” 

 

“Ok,” Gansey says. Adam bites his lip. 

 

“You can tell me,” Adam mumbles, “if you get more marks. I - I don’t wanna talk about it, but you can tell me. If you want to. But. Maybe talk to Noah about it if you wanna talk about it.” 

 

“Ok,” Gansey says again, smiles carefully at Adam. Adam smiles carefully back. 

-

So. It’s ok. Gansey gets a few more scrapes and bruises. Nothing big or awful, just everyday wear and tear. Nothing happens about it. Until, of course, it does. Because, Gansey is one of the 50%, and, not only is he lucky, he’s also ridiculously rich. So. it makes sense. That, for him? Being skinbound means he will find his soulmate. 

-

It happens on Adam’s fifth month of going to Aglionby. He, Ronan, Gansey, Noah, and Henry are squished into a booth at Nino’s, on the hunt for pizza, coke, and a break from Monmouth because they’re studying for upcoming exams and Monmouth is only for studying right now. 

Ronan is whispering some dumb shit in Adam’s ear about how Gansey’s shirt matches the terribly lurid booth seats here, and Gansey is leaning out of the booth to catch the attention of their waitress, and Noah is attempting to balance a salt shaker on his nose. The saltshaker falls as the waitress arrives at the table. It lands on the end of a fork, and in a move that Adam can barely believe is plausible, the fork flies up and stabs Gansey’s still raised hand. It doesn’t stick, of course, that would be too unreal. It lands with a clatter on the table just as Gansey’s hand starts dripping blood and the waitress, a short girl with spiky hair, yelps out in a shock of pain. 

Her hand is bleeding in unison with Gansey’s. 

 

“Oh hell no,” the girl says, “oh hell no.” She turns on her heel, and marches off towards the kitchen. 

 

Gansey spends a second staring, and then scrambles to his feet, abandoning the table to chase after her. 

 

Adam wants to stay and see how this pans out. Instead, he swallows, puts a couple of notes down on the table, and sidles his way out, mumbling something about heading home before it gets too dark, nevermind the fact that it’s not even 5 yet. He wants to be happy for Gansey, even if his waitress soulmate doesn’t look happy, he knows Gansey will be thrilled with having found her so soon. He wants to be happy. He can’t. His stomach roils. 

He’d driven to Nino’s with the rest of them, his bike still at Monmouth, so he sets off towards it, head down, eyes stinging. Ronan catches up with him before he’s even made it a block away from Nino’s. 

 

“I don’t wanna talk,” Adam says to the pavement, his hands stuffed hard in his pockets. 

 

“The fuck would I talk about?” Ronan snarls back, falls into step beside Adam. 

 

They walk back to Monmouth together in silence. Adam can’t pinpoint when in their terse relationship he and Ronan had gone from grudging acceptance of each other being in Gansey’s life, to easy acceptance, to friendship. Because, they were friends now. Adam hung out at Monmouth with Ronan even with Gansey wasn’t there. Adam let Ronan drag him on dumb adventures. Adam listened to Ronan’s stupid music. Adam felt at ease walking in silence next to him. Adam wanted Ronan to talk. 

 

When they reach the parking lot, Ronan does talk, as if he’s read Adam’s needs. 

 

“It hurts,” Ronan says, “seeing him actually find them, yeah?” 

 

“I said,” Adam grumbles, “I don’t wanna talk.”

 

Ronan ignores him, but shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. “Like, it was one thing him being skinbound, of course he’d be skinbound, he’s Gansey, but - finding them? So soon? Y’know how long I’ve been skinbound, Parrish?” 

 

Ronan has never brought up his soulmate, ever. Adam is willing to forget he didn’t wanna talk for this. 

 

“How long?” he asks. 

 

“Since I was three,” Ronan says, “or at least, that’s when I knew the words. I’ve grown up knowing I’m skinbound.” 

 

Adam exhales loudly. Can’t imagine how that feels. Knowing that you’re  _ perfect _ for one person in particular, and then, going years and years without. 

 

“I don’t know why that’s so shitty,” Adam says, a lie, “sounds better to me than never knowing.” 

 

Ronan is looking at him hard, like he’s trying to say something more that Adam just isn’t getting. 

 

“It’s shitty,” Ronan says, “because it’s never just been one  graze. It’s always more. It’s always - I feel like one day I’m gonna wake up and know that my soulmate is dead. Like he’s been beaten to a pulp. That’s what my body looks like somedays, y’know. Only for 24 hours, lucky for me, but - for him? For - I feel like -” he’s rambling a little now. Looks like he knows it as well, his face is flushing. 

 

Adam chews at his lip, grips his bike handlebars. He hasn’t unchained it yet. 

 

“My soulmate is dead,” he says roughly, “they’re dead. So. I get it. Or whatever. Shit’s rough.”    
  


Ronan laughs at him then, hollow sounding. “How do you know?” he asks. 

 

“I watched it,” Adam says, simple, “saw it happen. Didn’t know I was skinbound until then. Great way to find out.” 

 

“Huh,” Ronan says. 

 

He looks like he’s having an internal struggle. It doesn’t look like it’s going to resolve itself anytime soon though, and Adam wants to be out of here before Gansey gets back. If Gansey’s going to be back tonight at all, or if he would spend all evening and night convincing the waitress to give him a chance or whatever.  Adam unchains his bike. 

 

“I have to go,” he says, “I - it’s - thanks for telling me about your soulmate, I guess.” 

 

Ronan just stares at him, face twisted. Adam knows he’s being kind of a dick? But? He can’t talk about this. It’s painful. It’s a gross feeling. He just wants to get out of here and not. He gets on his bike, makes it as far as the entrance to the parking lot before his knuckles explode in pain. He drops his foot from the pedal to the gravel covered ground, unsteady and breathing erratically at the surprise of it. His knuckles are bleeding and stinging, and - 

Adam knows he’s kind of a dick. Adam knows that when he makes his mind up about something he keeps it firmly made up in a way that lets in as little hope as possible, because hope, as he’d learned usually ends painfully. Adam knows this. Adam doesn’t trust hope. This isn’t hope though. This is fact. This is his knuckles giving him fact. 

 

“I’m not dead,” Ronan yells out from behind him, voice cracking half way. He sounds pained. “I’m not fucking dead.” 

 

Adam swings one leg over his bike, lets it fall unhindered to the ground. Doesn’t turn to face Ronan. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan continues, loudly, “I didn’t mean to - I didn’t know you thought that.”

 

Adam turns. Ronan is advancing on him, hand bloody at his side. He’d punched the side of Monmouth. Hard. Or so Adam’s painful knuckles inform him. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan repeats, “I - I wasn’t sure it was you - I wasn’t sure if - and then you -” 

 

“No,” Adam says, as loud as Ronan, watches as Ronan stops in his tracks, face wary, “no. I - I watched myself bleed out. You can’t -” 

 

They both know he can. They both know the blood on their hands means he can. Means he is. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan says again. 

 

Adam swallows. “How long have you known?” he asks, because now, looking at Ronan, he can just tell that this has been a secret Ronan has been sitting on for a while. 

 

“Since last month,” Ronan says, “you came in with that massive black eye on monday. I’d the same one over the weekend.” 

 

“Why didn’t you  _ say _ ,” Adam snaps. Can’t believe he’s fucking snapping at his soulmate.

 

“Because,” Ronan blusters, he’s started moving forward again, one foot slow in front of the other, “because you hated hearing Gansey say anything about soulmarks.” 

 

“So?” Adam says. Stays stock still as Ronan approaches.

 

“So,” Ronan says, “I thought you didn’t believe. Or didn’t like it. Or didn’t want it.” 

 

“You bled out,” Adam says weakly. Ronan’s reached him now, is standing so close Adam can smell him. 

 

“I did,” Ronan shrugs, his hands are scrabbling at his wrists, undoing his perpetual leather bands, dropping them like autumn leaves on the ground around the, exposing badly scarred skin. “I did. And then they pumped me full of new blood, and shocked my heart, and stitched me up, and I got a second fucking chance.” 

 

“How was I supposed to know that?” Adam asks, hoarsely. He watches his own hands dart out to touch the skin on Ronan’s wrists, the scars he hadn’t got to see form because the cuts disappear too quickly to watch heal. If he’d only gotten to see the skin reknit itself. He would have known. He wouldn’t have - 

 

“Dunno,” Ronan says, shrugs, “dunno, but - I’m alive.” 

 

“Fuck you,” Adam says, is absolutely horrified to find out that his voice sounds so raw and wet, “I was so - I was so -” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says.

 

“God,” Adam gasps. “I’m sorry. I know you - fuck - was it on...purpose?” 

 

Ronan shrugs again, looks very upset. “Yes,” he says, “I wanted it then. I don’t anymore.” 

 

“Will you,” Adam says, has to look down at the ground, “tell me about it. Sometime. Later. So I can understand?” 

 

“I mean,” Ronan says, sounds as uncomfortable as Adam feels, “yes. If you want.” 

 

“I do,” Adam says, sighs, “I’m sorry.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Ronan says. 

 

“What do we do now?” Adam asks, “I don’t - I trashed my meeting my soulmate plan back when I thought you were dead.” 

 

“Uh,” Ronan says, “dunno. I guess. I dunno. Look - we don’t have to do anything if you don’t fucking wanna - like - just because it’s  _ fate _ we could just -” 

 

“Oh fuck no,” Adam says, looks up from his feet to Ronan again, he’s still clutching at Ronan’s wrists, but now he moves his hands to grab onto the front of Ronan’s shirt, “I want you.” 

 

“Well fuck, Parrish,” Ronan says, obviously attempting a drawl but not quite making it, “someone’s thirsty.” 

 

“Shut up,” Adam says, “I thought you were skinbound to someone else. I wasn’t allowed to want you before. I  _ want you _ .” 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan mumbles. “Fuck, ok.” 

 

“We can figure out what next later,” Adam says, “I guess. Just - you want me, too?” 

 

“Don’t be a fuckass,” Ronan snorts, “of course I do.” 


	2. Re-do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's not what I meant" This story contains arguments. 
> 
> Adam doesn’t say anything when he approaches Ronan, just trudges up to him, and then sits down next to him, leaning back until his head his resting on the hay, his eyes on the sky. He’s going to get hay all through his hair.
> 
> “That’s not what I meant,” Adam says, very quietly. Ronan doesn’t look at him.

Fighting with Adam was not an unusual thing for Ronan to be doing. Fighting with Adam over tiny things was also not an unusual thing. Fighting with Adam over painful, hurtful things was something Ronan had hoped was a thing of the past. Like - once they’d put their tongues in each other’s mouths and their hearts in each other’s hands they would suddenly magically become one mind, only fighting because it’s fun and that’s what they do. A stupid thing to think, really. 

Ronan isn’t even sure how this fight started. Or, he kind of is, but he isn’t sure how it skidden so irreparably out of control so quickly when only minutes before they’d been kissing and touching. 

-

He’d said; ‘y’know, your lease finishes next month.’

Adam had replies with a wry look and a kiss, and Ronan had surged on.

‘I don’t think you should renew it,’ he said. 

‘Oh really?’ Adam had said, kissed him again. 

‘Yeah,’ Ronan said, spurred on by Adam still kissing him despite the fact that he must know where Ronan was going with this. ‘I think you should move in with me’.

Apparently Adam had no been expecting that. At all. He had stopped kissing Ronan, had sat back on his heels, and looked at Ronan. 

‘What?’ he had asked. 

‘Move in with me,’ Ronan said, sitting up straight and reaching out to take Adam’s hands, ‘you’re here so often anyway, it makes sense. You’ll save money for uni, I’ll get to snog you whenever, it’s great.’

‘I can’t afford to live here,’ Adam had told him sternly. He doesn’t pull his hands away from Ronan’s, but he doesn’t squeeze them back either, ‘and I’ll barely save anything with how much petrol I’ll have to use to drive in and out all the time for work.’

‘You could take the BMW,’ Ronan said, ‘it doesn’t need petrol. Or, I could dream you up your own vehicle that doesn’t need petrol.’ He knows this is pushing it by a long way, but he thinks that this was him trying to make his original statement seem less outrageous by putting a more outrageous thing next to it.

‘No,’ Adam had snapped, had shuffled further on the couch so their hands were only just touching, ‘Lynch,’ he said, ‘I’m not letting you fend for me.’

‘Why not?” Ronan demanded, ‘I’m happy to. I want to.’

‘I don’t want you to.’ Adam was still snapping at this point, had pulled his hand free from Ronan’s. ‘I’m not going to be indebted to my boyfriend.’

‘You wouldn’t be indebted,’ Ronan had insisted, ‘what’s mine is fucking yours, Parrish, that’s how this works. There is no debt.’

Adam had looked at him as if he had sprang a second head. 

‘We’re not married,’ he said coldly, sharply, ‘what’s mine is not yours, and what’s yours is in no way mine. You can’t say shit like that, Lynch.’

‘Why not?” Ronan demanded loudly, ‘I want it to be true.’

‘I don’t!’ Adam yelled back, ‘God, Lynch, I don’t!’

At this point, Ronan, possibly unwisely, he wasn’t sure yet, sprang up from the couch, and left Adam to it. 

-

Adam comes to find him an hour later. Ronan’s not sure if he’s only just come to look for him now, or if he’d been looking for a while and just in all the wrong places, because Ronan’s not exactly in an easy to find place. It’s not ridiculously hard either. He’s out in the fields, slumped down against a hay bale, staring up at the sky, at the one dark grey cloud, as if he’s daring it to rain on him. 

Adam doesn’t say anything when he approaches Ronan, just trudges up to him, and then sits down next to him, leaning back until his head his resting on the hay, his eyes on the sky. He’s going to get hay all through his hair. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Adam says, very quietly. Ronan doesn’t look at him. 

“What isn’t?” he asks gruffly. 

“When I said - when I said I don’t. I didn’t mean I don’t ever want to marry you. Or whatever.”

“It’d be fine if that is what you meant,” Ronan replies. He can feel Adam looking at him. 

“It wouldn’t be,” Adam says, “I know you, Lynch. I know what you want.” 

“What the fuck do I want, then?” Ronan snaps. 

“Commitment,” Adam says, “love. Affection. Coffee. To not be fucked around by boyfriends who don’t know how to deal with the idea of promising their future to someone else.” 

“I don’t need -” Ronan begins, the lie already on his tongue. Adam interrupts. 

“Don’t,” Adam says, “just because I don’t know how to deal with it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Doesn’t mean I won’t promise it.” 

“Sure sounds like that’s what it means,” Ronan grunts.

“It scares me,” Adam tells the side of Ronan’s face, “because all my plans, all my life, have involved only me. Just me, fending for myself, moving myself up, being independent and free and not held back.” 

“God,” Ronan says, his throat rough and sore, “good to know I’m gonna hold you back, Parrish.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Adam says again, tired sounding, “Ronan. Look at me.” 

Ronan tips his head to one side, looks at Adam out of the edge of his eye. Adam is frowning hard, his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth downturned.

“I can’t deal with the idea that I’m allowed to let myself be given shit,” Adam says, “when you give me shit it makes me feel like I have to pay you back, that I owe you, that - and that’s a shitty thing to feel about your boyfriend. I dunno if I’ll always feel like that. I hope I won’t, because I don’t think that’ll be great when we’re married. But, like, Ronan. I wanna work through that. With you. I want that. I want to be with you, and have what’s mine be your and whatever.” 

“You didn’t sound like it before,” Ronan mumbles, possibly not useful. 

“I know,” Adam sighs. “I was mad. And scared, or whatever, I guess. I’m sorry, babe. I am.” 

“You wanna fucking marry me?” Ronan asks. 

“Not yet,” Adam says, he’s rolling his eyes, reaching for Ronan, “but yeah. I - look. You know I’m not with you as some fling.” 

“Good,” Ronan grunts. 

“I knew,” Adam continues, cups Ronan’s cheek with one callused hand, “that if I came and kissed you back that night, that that would be me saying that I’m in it for good. I kissed you knowing that. I kissed you wanting that.” 

“You’re a shit head,” Ronan sniffs, leans hard into Adam’s hand. 

“I love you,” Adam says, emphatic, “so. Can we have that moving in argument again? I promise I’ll - I promise I’ll not blow my fuse this time.” 

“You want to have a re-do?” Ronan asks, snorts, lifts his hand to cover Adam’s on his face, leans in against Adam’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Adam says, “now we’ve both...cooled down, I guess. I want to talk to you about it properly.” 

“Fuck you’re grown up,” Ronan mumbles, “ok. Yeah. Ok. So, babe?”

“Mmhm?” Adam hums. 

“When your lease ends,” Ronan says, sighs heavily, turns his head so he can tuck his face in against Adam’s neck, “what do you think about moving in with me?” 


	3. A Big Fucking Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer  
> This story contains mild implied sexual content
> 
> Ronan needs to get a fan.

Ronan’s a big fucking fan of summer. He always has been. It means driving his car with the windows down, wind rushing around him. It means stomping through cool forests with Gansey, pausing to strip off and dip in small streams. It means making a huge ass pool at the barns and going diving and splashing until his skin is pruney and gross. It also, apparently, and very annoyingly, means that when he presses himself, all hot and bare skin, along his boyfriend in bed, trying to edge a thigh in between Adam’s, Adam grunts something about it being too hot and nudges him off again. 

Fucking shit. 

He needs to get a fan. 


	4. Sounds Like A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting Back Together.   
> This story contains the break up and the getting back together, and therefore, the angst?
> 
> He thinks this must be a scene and a half to walk in on. Two grown men standing half a metre apart and crying at each other. God.

It’s a very simple thing that ends the conversation. Adam, clutching his dream cellphone to his ear in the bathroom of his small shared dorm room, Ronan pacing around with his cellphone somewhere at the barns. It’s this; 

“I don’t want you to come this weekend, Lynch, God, we’ve been through this. I’m studying. I don’t want any distractions.” 

“I wouldn’t be distracting - I - come on, Parrish. I haven’t seen you for a month. I fucking miss you.” 

“That’s your fault. You were doing farm shit. You can’t call off one weekend and then throw a hissy fit when I call off the next.” 

“I can and I will. And it’s not because of that.” 

“Well what the hell is it because of?” Adam snaps, “Tell me.” 

“It’s because -” Ronan blusters, “- God. Don’t make me say it.” 

“I’m making you say it,” Adam says, far more harshly than he intends to. God. He needs a nap. He needs to stop being a shit to his boyfriend.

“You seriously don’t give a fuck, do you?” Ronan says then, “You don’t. You don’t give a fuck about me.” 

“What the hell,” Adam spits down the phone, “seriously? You’re making this about that? I’m busy, you little pissfuck, this isn’t about you.” 

“I know it isn’t -” Ronan begins, then cuts himself off with a swear, “actually no, fuck that. This is about me. I can’t believe you - I can’t -” 

“No,” Adam snaps, “I’m not doing this. You know these are important tests. I can’t fucking just take time off to look after my boyfriend just because he’s fucking lonely or whatever.” 

There’s a long silence, and then Ronan says, “Well. Don’t, then. We can just stop. We don’t need to do this. This can be over right the fuck now, Parrish. Then you won’t have to look after me ever again, if that’s how you feel about this shit.” 

Adam is an asshole, and he’s tired, and he feels stretched to the breaking point, and Ronan sounds so fucking serious, and how can you sound so serious about something if you don’t want it? So Adam says, “Fine. Let’s be fucking finished.” 

Ronan hangs up the phone. 

Adam stares at his phone. Stares at it. Stares. Then he panics. Because, he doesn’t want to be finished. He doesn’t. He didn’t. He doesn’t. He never does. He’s an idiot. A stupid fucking idiot. An idiot who should have slept instead of studying last night, who should have eaten breakfast, or at least lunch. An idiot who’s tired, and hungry, and bored of studying, and who misses their boyfriend who they just accidentally broke up with because he let  himself slip into nasty. And he regrets it so bad. 

He calls Ronan back. Gets no answer. Calls Ronan back. No answer. Calls Ronan. No. He leaves a voicemail, short and to the point, ‘I don’t want to break up, I love you, I’m sorry.’ He calls again. He sends a text, very similar to the voicemail. He sends another, just in case. He paces, he waits. He surrenders himself to waiting for Ronan to contact him. 

He sits down at his desk, thumbs unenthusiastically through his study planner. Stares at his handwriting on each date, telling him how much he needs to study for what, how much time he has. Stares at what he had forgotten to write down on this one particular date that just so fucking happened to be tomorrow. When Ronan was supposed to be here. 

Honestly, he had probably not written it down because there was no way in hell he would forget it. Despite the fact that he had. There ought to be no way in hell he would forget it. Not because anything particularly special had happened to him on this day, but, because something particularly awful had happened to Ronan on this day. Just because it happened years ago now, doesn’t mean it wasn’t just as awful as it had been the year before, or the year before that, and so on. And Adam. Adam had forgotten. And canceled on Ronan. And snapped at Ronan. And told him it wasn’t about him. And accidentally. Broken. Up. With. Ronan. 

He calls Ronan again. No answer. 

He needs to see Ronan. He had needed to before, he knew that, he needed to get in touch with Ronan immediately and let him know how much Adam did not want this to be the end of them, but now, now it was vital. He checks his bank account. He does not have enough money right now to buy the gas he’d need to get to the Barns. His rent had just gone out, and he’d just bought groceries. His paycheck arrived tomorrow, though. So. Maybe he could borrow some money from his roomate, maybe he could just hop in his car and drive for as long as possible, and fill up with the rest of his money and hope that it would be enough to get him there. Maybe that would work. 

He calls Ronan again. 

He sits down with his study planner and handfuls of refill. If he shifts things around, if he sets himself up on maybe four hours of sleep a night, if he canceled every other thing in his life, he thinks he can set up a study schedule that lets him drive to Henrietta for the weekend and try his fucking hardest to make it up to Ronan. 

It’s not easy. He hadn’t been easygoing on himself when he had put the first schedule together, so finding enough time in the cracks to turn into studying time is difficult. He manages, but not quickly. It takes him a couple of hours. Which, honestly, he could have used to study, but he’s already written the weekend off. His plan, such as it is, is to write this so he knows he can carry his plan out. To write this, to pack his bag, to check his account just in case a miracle has occurred, to call his roommate and borrow exactly $67, to drive to the Barns and get down on his knees and beg for Ronan’s forgiveness, because, Ronan is worth a million times more than his pride. 

-

He has his bag packed, his phone in his hand to call his roommate when there’s a loud knock on the door. Before Adam can respond, there’s another knock, louder, rougher, and Adam, recognising it, tosses his phone across the room onto his bed and all but sprints to the door. 

Ronan is standing outside it. He looks horrific. His eyes are swollen, but dry, and his lips look like he’d been biting them the last couple of hours. 

“Ronan,” Adam says, attempts to step forward to pull him into his arms, but Ronan pushes him back, and then storms past him into the room. This is fair. “Ronan,” Adam tries again, “I didn’t mean - I didn’t want -” 

“If we’re gonna break up,” Ronan interrupts, voice harsh and hoarse, “I wanna do it face to face. Sorry that you’ve got no fucking time, but I fucking need us to do it like this. I won’t let you just fucking toss me over the fucking phone.” 

“I don’t want to toss you,” Adam says, words stumbling over themselves in his haste to get them out, “I don’t want to lose you. I love you. I - I said fucking horrible things. I didn’t mean it. I don’t mean it. I don’t was us to be finished.” 

Ronan stares at him, expression twisted. 

“You said ‘let’s be finished’,” he says flatly, “that sure sounds like you want us to be finished.” 

“I thought you wanted us to be finished,” Adam says, is so fucking close to just bowling over and fucking sobbing, “I thought you wanted - I was so mad - because I’m a dick and I’m an idiot and - I thought you wanted us to be done and I wasn’t gonna stay with someone who didn’t want me and I -” 

“I fucking want you,” Ronan says, “I didn’t want you to - to say yes I was just -” 

“Being shitty,” Adam says, “because we’re fucking assholes sometimes. I know. I’m fucking sorry. And I - I forgot it was his anniversary. And I’m - I’m so sorry. If I’d remembered I wouldn’t have cancelled this weekend. I just - I was so mad at you for not respecting my time and - and - and needs that I didn’t stop to think about how I was fucking trampling on your needs and -” 

“You’re such an asshole,” Ronan sobs. 

“I know,” Adam sobs back. 

He thinks this must be a scene and a half to walk in on. Two grown men standing half a metre apart and crying at each other. God. 

“I thought you didn’t care,” Ronan says, pressing his face in against his hands as if he’s attempting to stem the flow of his tears. 

“I do,” Adam says, “I do. I just - I forgot. And then I - was an asshole and - and - God. God. Ronan. I am so fucking sorry. You don’t need to forgive me right now, but just, I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I don’t want to break up. That if you wanna be together still than that’s what I want too.” 

“Of course I fucking want us to be together still,” Ronan says, “why the fuck would I have driven here this fucking quick if I didn’t give a shit.” 

“I know,” Adam mumbles, “I - I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” Ronan replies, “and God. I do fucking forgive you. Right the fuck now. You’re forgiven.” 

“You’re allowed to take time to forgive me,” Adam says, “if you need it.” 

“I don’t,” Ronan says, “not anymore. I just want. You want me, still?” 

“Yeah,” Adam says, “so much. I - I was just rewriting my fucking schedule so I could drive to you. I was - I called you so many times, Ronan, as soon as you hung up. I left voicemails. I texted. I regretted the words as soon as I said them.” 

“I left my phone behind,” Ronan says. “I just got in the car and drove.” 

“Well,” Adam says, clears his throat, “I’ve changed my schedule now. So. Will you please stay? I’m - I want you here. I want to be here for you. I wanna make this up to you.” 

“Will your grades fuck up if I do?” Ronan asks. 

“No,” Adam says, “I’ve - God. They probably wouldn’t have even if I didn’t shift my schedule around but I was - I was worried anyway. I shouldn’t have been. I’m so-” 

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Ronan sniffs, “I’m fucking staying. Come fucking hold me already,” 

Adam steps forward, closes the gap between them, and drags his arms around Ronan, holding him tightly to him. Everything is damp and salty. 

“I’m an idiot,” Adam say to Ronan’s neck. 

“I’m an idiot too,” Ronan replies, “I should’ve just - I should’ve just said why I was upset. I shouldn’t have -” 

“We need to work on our arguments,” Adam says, “it’s - it’s not. Not good.” 

“No shit,” Ronan says, is fisting his hands in Adam’s shirt. 

“I’m serious,” Adam says, “I’m so - I can’t - it’s scary how angry I can get and I hate that.” 

“What’re you suggesting?” Ronan asks.He’s started to walk them backwards, towards Adam’s bed. 

“I dunno,” Adam admits. “Anger management classes. For me. I don’t know.” 

“I think,” Ronan says, “that if you need that so do I.” 

“Maybe therapy,” Adam sighs, “maybe.” 

“Couples therapy?” Ronan grumbles. 

“Nah,” Adam says, “well. I mean. We could. I don’t really wanna. But maybe. I don’t want to get to this stage with you again.” 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “ok. Neither, I mean. Never.” 

“Fuck,” Adam mumbles, Ronan’s bumped them against the mattress now, is tugging them down on the bedcovers. “Let’s just - just fucking cuddle or some shit.” 

“That’s the plan,” Ronan says, “I’m not fucking letting go of you for an hour. Then we can make the long term plan.” 

Sounds like a plan.


	5. Breakfast First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Body Swap  
> This story contains so much sex. Like, a lot? 
> 
> "We should nap,” Adam mumbles, voice rough and raw from his harsh exhales, “get your dick out of my ass and spoon me. We should nap.”

Cabeswater 2.0 is more of a city park than a rambling ancient forest at this point, but, it’s a physical thing, it’s a physical thing with trees, and wildlife, and water, and  _ rain _ , and magic, and that means it’s going pretty fucking good. He’s proud of it. Not wholly, to be sure, it doesn’t have the depth, or the integrity of what he’s used to, but. But. It  _ feels _ right, and that is truly something to be fucking proud of. He’s ‘planted’ it in a far field of the Barns’ land, so it’s easy access for dreaming and wandering, and Opal spends a lot of her outside time gallivanting around and requesting additional features. Her insight is invaluable, considering that she’s a dream, and lived in Cabeswater for so long. What she wants is (mostly) what she gets, and when she truly loves something he puts in, she lets him know, and that too is something to be proud of.  

His proudest moment so far, though, came after a night of dreaming, of working hard, of  _ wanting _ , and Adam had called him the next morning. Ronan had been worried at first, because he had answered the phone and Adam had been  _ crying _ and that seems like it’s never a good thing but - Adam had  _ felt _ Cabeswater. He had felt his connection to Cabeswater again. He had woken up feeling, not just a memory, but a real tangible thing and that was what Ronan was proudest of. Making Adam so ridiculously pleased that he cried on the phone. 

 

So, he’s been looking forwards, a month and three weeks, for Adam to come  _ home _ so he can come see Cabeswater himself. Se he can look at the trees, and feel its energy, and feel connected again. This time, Ronan had been very careful about this, this time Adam was not indebted. He was known, he was felt, he was respected, but the forest held no power over him. Not his eyes, not his hands, not him. So. He wanted Adam to get to feel the power he could have in his magical forest without that ever niggling fear behind it. He wanted Adam to walk in it hand in hand with Ronan and say, “more caves,” or, “I was reading about this tree which grows this rare fruit and if you put a patch in over here-”, or, “this river looks like a great place to make out by”. 

 

He’d been keeping Gansey and Blue and even Henry updated on the Cabeswater rebuild, but, he hadn’t offered to let any of them in yet. He knows this is a little selfish, he knows Gansey has such a connection to Cabeswater - his fucking life - and he knows Blue does - being part fucking tree and all - but. But. He wants Adam to get to go in first. He wants Cabeswater’s magician to get to be the first other person to experience it. 

-

Adam gets back to the Barns late on a Sunday night, which isn’t a forest exploring time, so Ronan feeds him supper and takes him to bed and gets very thoroughly fucked instead. In the morning, it’s difficult to tear himself out of bed, out of Adam’s arms, even for something so exciting as Cabeswater, so they sleep in a bit. Adam, of course, always likes to be doing things, even when he’s resting so even though they’re technically sleeping in, the sleeping is more along the lines of handjobs and make outs. When they finally get up, Adam insists they eat breakfast before any traipsing begins, and Ronan makes pancakes and they both watch as Opal eats a frying pan. Ronan would have stopped her, but by the time they realised what was going on, there was no hope for the frying pan so they just let it be. 

Finally. Finally, Adam puts his gumboots on - the ones he leaves at the Barns because he has no use for them in the city - and shrugs his coat on, and Ronan presses him up against the door and kisses him and kisses him until Opal starts throwing gravel at them, and then they head out across the fields to Cabeswater. 

 

-

 

“God,” Adam says after they’ve been walking in silence for almost five minutes. They’d been chatting cheerfully all the way across the fields, but, as soon as they had stepped over the boundary between real and dream, Adam had fallen silent. “Ro,” he says, voice strained, “God, Ro-” 

 

“Is it ok?” Ronan asks, very worried, “Are you ok?”

 

“Yes,” Adam says. He’s letting go of Ronan’s hand so he can first swipe his hands across his eyes, and then so he can pull himself into Ronan’s arms, “ _ Yes _ , baby. This is - this feels so - I can hear it greeting me. In my head. It’s -” 

 

“Y’know,” Ronan teases, pressing a firm kiss to the top of Adam’s head and wrapping his arms tightly around him, “if anyone else told me they were hearing voices in their head I would be super concerned.” 

 

Adam pinches his side, but doesn’t pull away at all, just pulls closer, “God,” he says again, “I - I know now that - that my magic - my psychic abilities aren’t reliant on Cabeswater - but it still feels so fucking good - so fucking good to have it back. I feel - yeah.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “I’ve been feeling - like - my dreaming is stronger with it here. More stable.” 

 

“I’m so glad,” Adam says. 

 

They stay like that for a short while, breathing deeply against each other before Adam pulls away, swipes at his eyes again, and then grabs Ronan’s hand. 

 

“C’mon,” he says happily, “show me everything else.”

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “we should probably go find out what Opal’s up to, too.” 

 

-

 

It’s a good afternoon. It’s Adam pressing his hands into dirt and against bark and picking up leaves and grinning at birds singing in Latin, and chasing Opal around. It’s Ronan laughing as Opal and Adam tussle playfully in the long grass, and Ronan feeling like his heart is going to burst when Adam spots his favourite flowers growing abundantly and smiles at Ronan, and Ronan waiting until Opal’s galloped off again somewhere to push himself back up hard against Adam, to kiss him with intention. 

 

“Oh, really?” Adam snorts, letting Ronan pull them flush together. “You wanna christen it like that, huh?” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, kisses the side of Adam’s neck, then his chin, then his mouth, then says; “you’ve no idea how many - back then, y’know - how many times I dreamed about you - about us doing... _ stuff _ in Cabeswater. Because. You’re the magician. And I’m the dreamer. And it felt like it would be the fucking best - the most fucking intimate -” 

 

“Fuck,” Adam laughs, “that long huh?” 

 

“Don’t act all surprised, Parrish,” Ronan groans, groans again for a different reason as Adam pushes his  thigh in between Ronan’s and presses it up, “you know I crushed after you like a fucking lunatic for far too long.” 

 

“When you dreamed about it,” Adam says, shifts until he’s all but speaking into Ronan’s mouth, “was I fucking you? Or were you fucking me? Was it a threesome with Cabeswater?” 

 

“Don’t be fucking gross,” Ronan gets out, and then, “you fucking me. It doesn’t matter though, I’ll fuck you if that’s what you want. I just want us to be - to be connected.” 

 

“We  _ connected _ last night,” Adam says, bites at Ronan’s lower lip. 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, “but like I just fucking said, if you’d listen, Parrish, is that it feels like it’ll be more -” 

 

“I know,” Adam butts in, “I feel it too. Like. I wanna - we’ll be - this is your magic. And my magic. Kind of. And it’ll be like - I dunno. I feel like we’ll be part of each other more. I get it.” 

 

“You explain it even worse than I do,” Ronan teases, “will you fuck me?” 

 

“Lube?” Adam asks, “We’re in the middle of a forest.”

 

“A forest that likes to give us things we ask for,” Ronan points out, “I tested it out last week. It’s pretty nice lube.” 

 

“The fuck,” Adam says, but, appears appeased because he pushes hard against Ronan, tugging at his clothing as he bears him down onto the grassy ground. 

 

“Fuck yes,” Ronan bites out, shuffling under Adam’s weight to shift his hips up so he can push his trousers and undies down in one go. 

 

They get undressed haphazardly, continuously pausing to kiss, to touch, to laugh at the unrealness of it all, and also to laugh when Ronan accidentally throws his shirt into a nearby pond and startles a toad. 

 

Finally. Finally, they’re undressed, and Cabeswater has been appealed to, and Adam is stretched out over his back, mouthing at his tattoo where it curls in tendrils over his shoulder, and pressing his fingers into Ronan’s ass while Ronan presses back against his hand. 

“Oh God,” Ronan says, hisses it again as Adam pulls his fingers out, and then pushes back in with an extra digit, “Oh  _ God _ , baby, fuck -  _ fuck _ -” 

 

“That good?” Adam asks, bites down on the junction of neck and shoulder, right on a sprawling inked wing. 

 

“Yes,” Ronan exhales, “harder. More. Put your cock in me.” 

 

Adam gives him harder, he gives him more, then, he pulls his hand away, pulls Ronan, boneless and limp, around, and yanks him into his lap until Ronan’s seated perilously close to Adam’s cock - but not close enough - and his own is pressing against the firm slide of Adam’s stomach, smearing small patches of pre-cum against his tan skin. 

 

“Feel like you could ride me?” Adam asks, “Got enough strength in your legs, babe?” 

 

“Fuck you,” Ronan says without heat, lifts himself up on his knees, “of course.” 

 

“Good,” Adam says, smiles beatifically at him, and holds him tight by his hips, “you wanna fuck yourself on me, then?” 

 

“God,” Ronan groans, “God, fuck, Parrish, you - God.” He cuts himself off with another groan, braces himself on Adam’s shoulder with one hand, and reaches behind himself to grab Adam’s dick to position it against him before bearing down on it with a drawn out exhale. 

 

“Fuck,” Adam bites out, his hands gripping tighter at Ronan’s hips as Ronan seats himself fully down, until his ass is flush with Adam’s balls, and he feels stretched out and full to the point of burning. “Babe you’re so good, babe, fuck -” 

 

“Haven’t even started yet, Parrish,” Ronan says, too overcome to manage enough of a sarcastic tone to be convincing, “just -- you -- wait--” he grunts, shifting in increments on Adam’s lap to let himself acclimatise to the weight inside him. Adam groans. 

 

He gives himself a long moment of just this, of sitting in Adam’s lap, pressing his forehead against Adam’s, listening to the bird song around them, the sound of the rivers and the forest around them, of Adam’s breath. Feeling Adam’s hands travel up and down his sides, calming and seductive all at once, and then he lifts himself up on his knees again and begins fucking himself in earnest. 

 

For a long time everything is just his and Adam’s voice mingled together in a cacophony of bitten of words and curses and grunts and moans, and the not quite sexy noise of flesh on flesh, and it’s all pleasure, and Adam’s fingers on his hips, on his nipples, on his neck, on his cock. They’ve fucked a lot before, but, the both of them were right. Here, in this forest, where both their magic is heightened, it felt so much  _ more _ . Like every thrust inside him was a fucking spark connecting them tighter. Like every kiss was a stitch  in their fabric. Like every bitten out gasp was a piece of proof to Cabeswater than its Magician and Dreamer belonged together, in each other, around each other. 

 

When Ronan cums, the strength in his legs in immediately diminished, the wash of pleasure and fatigue simultaneous, and Adam shifts underneath him, presses him out on his back, and keeps fucking in to him until he cums as well, barely a minute after while Ronan still pants and gasps in the aftershocks of his own orgasm. 

 

“Fuck,” Adam says eventually, as he shifts his hips slightly to draw himself out of Ronan, “baby that was -  _ fuck _ .” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, too well fucked to figure out further coherency, “fuck.” 

 

“You’re so -” Adam mumbles, drags himself further up Ronan’s body to kiss him hard, despite the fact that the both of them are still breathing raggedly, “So hot. So - so beautiful.” 

 

“You already got my pants well off,” Ronan says, “you can stop trying now.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam snorts, kisses him again, “I fucking need a nap.” 

 

“So fucking nap,” Ronan tells him, “It’s summer in here.” 

 

They sleep. 

 

-

 

When he wakes, Adam is draped over him like a blanket, and a root is digging into the small of his back. He’s pretty sure that had not been there when he went to sleep, and he’s very disgruntled about it. He supposes it might just be Cabeswater telling him to fucking wake up already and do shit with his day, because, although the seasons are different here, he’s made the time work pretty much the same, and the sun is quite a lot further across the sky than it had been when they’d gone to sleep. 

 

“Adam,” he mumbles, voice strange with sleep and exertion, “wake up, I’m fucking starving.” He drops his eyes from the sky, and feels like the pit of his stomach has dropped as well, because, it’s not Adam draped across him, it’s himself. “HOLY FUCK,” he adds on. 

 

The Ronan that isn’t him, startles wildly, his hands flinging out as if to break a fall, and he scrambles up onto his knees, defensive and wary, one hand reaching out to cover his cock. 

 

“What the fuck,” that Ronan says, “What the fuck. Where’s Ronan - who - why are you wearing my body - what -” 

 

“Oh holy fuck,” Ronan says, “holy shitting mother of fuck.” 

 

“Oh,” the other Ronan is blinking at Ronan, seemingly coming to the same conclusion as him. “Oh what the hell, Ronan? Are you in my fucking body? Am I in yours?” 

 

“Um,” Ronan says, because, well, “if you’re Adam. Then. Yes? I guess?” 

 

“What the hell,” Adam says, his face twisting into a very Adam expression, which is odd to see on his own face, “what the fucking hell, Lynch.” 

 

“I don’t know!” Ronan protests, holding his hands up in front of him, “I just woke up!” 

 

“God,” Adam snorts, “ok. Well. Let’s get dressed. I don’t wanna deal with this mystery while  _ your _ cock is swinging around my legs.” 

 

“Why?” Ronan teases, “You think you’ll get turned on?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam says, “get dressed you dick ass.” 

 

“Hey,” Ronan says, catches the shirt Adam throws at him, still wet from the pond, “it’s your dick, and your ass, don’t diss them. I quite like them. Also - this is my shirt, so you should wear it.” 

 

“You wear it,” Adam replies, tugging his own shirt down on Ronan’s body, “you got it wet.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan grunts, puts his tank on begrudgingly. 

 

They rustle about in the grass, getting dressed, putting all their layers on. It’s very fucking weird seeing his own naked ass. At least now he knows for sure that Adam is not lying at all when he says it’s hot. 

 

“Would it be weird,” Ronan asks, once they’re dressed and doing up their shoelaces, “if I kissed you while we’re in each others’ bodies?” 

 

“We’re not kissing right now,” Adam says tersely, “because we have to figure out what the fuck to do. I’m only here for a week, Ronan, I can’t - I can’t go back to uni like this, there’s no way you’re going back in my place, you’d burn the place down in boredom.” 

 

“Hey,” Ronan says, forgoing offence at the (correct) slight on his behaviour, and travelling instead to attempted comfort, “baby. We’re going to work this out. It’ll be fine.” 

 

“Ugh,” Adam says, finishes with his shoes and stands up, “it’s too weird hearing my voice calling me baby.” 

 

Ronan frowns, reaches out for Adam, and Adam grabs his hands to haul him to his feet, and then, thankfully, doesn’t let go of Ronan’s hand. Instead, he leans forward, presses a quick kiss to Ronan’s forehead, and links their fingers together. 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “let’s go back to the Barns, grab something to eat, and then? I don’t know. I’ll get my cards out?” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “good. I need food. Fuck, Parrish, are you like, always hungry?” 

 

“Not always,” Adam says, “only most of the time.” 

 

-

 

Ronan makes them sandwiches while Adam goes upstairs to fetch his cards, and then they sit around the table stuffing their faces while Adam stares intently at the cards, laying them out in odd patterns, occasionally flipping one over. 

 

“This is so strange,” Ronan mumbles, “watching myself do this weird witchy shit.” 

 

“Shut your face,” Adam mumbles back, “I’m concentrating.” 

 

Ronan shuts his face, or, more accurately, he shuts Adam’s face. He just watches instead, his eyes on Adam’s hands - which are a million times less exciting than Adam’s actual hands, but, because Adam is piloting them, they’re still exciting. Eventually, Adam just sighs, very frustrated, and Ronan lifts his gaze from hands to face. 

 

“What?” Ronan asks. 

 

“We’re fucking idiots, is what.” Adam replies flatly. 

 

“That’s a given,” Ronan says, “but what exactly did we do this time?” 

 

“Well,” Adam says, “this Cabeswater is new. We haven’t worked all the kinks out yet -” 

 

“That’s true,” Ronan butts in, “it keeps asking me to spank it -” 

 

“Shut up,” Adam snorts, “what I mean, is that it has power and magic, yeah, but it doesn’t know how to use it properly yet. Like… I dunno. A baby with a remote.” 

 

“That’s a terrible analogy,” Ronan tells him. Adam ignores him and continues. 

 

“We basically asked it to put us into each other’s bodies,” Adam says, “and because it doesn’t understand nuance? It fucking did.” 

 

“Wow,” Ronan says, “what a fucking stupid forest.” 

 

“You made this fucking stupid forest,” Adam points out. 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, “fine. So? What next?” 

 

“I dunno,” Adam sighs, “well. I have a few ideas?” 

 

“Go on,” Ronan says. 

 

“My first idea is that we could just go back to Cabeswater and ask it to fucking reverse it. My second idea is that when you sleep tonight, I scry into your dreams and we swap over in dream Cabeswater. My third idea is that we go back to Cabeswater - tomorrow so it’s not like, dark - and fuck again, while thinking about changing bodies.” 

 

“I like the fucking idea,” Ronan says. Adam rolls his eyes. “But we should try all three,” Ronan continues, “we’ll dream tonight, and then, tomorrow morning we’ll go to Cabeswater, ask it nicely, and  then ask it sexily.” 

 

“What a plan,” Adam says dryly. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan offers then, reaching across the cards to take Adam’s hand, “this is pretty fucked up.” 

 

“It’s fine,” Adam says, squeezes his hand, “I mean. It’s not ideal for sure,” he laughs,” but, I can think of a fuck load of worse things. You didn’t mean for this to happen. I panicked a little earlier, but, I”m ok now.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says, grins at him, “I love you.” 

 

“I love you too,” Adam says, “and now I’m going to go shower because I have my own fucking cum leaking out of my ass and it’s fucking uncomfortable.” 

 

“Can I join?” Ronan asks, “or is that just gonna be very weird?” 

 

“Um,” Adam says, “uh - y’know? Maybe not right now? I’m not sure I’m quite ready to have sex with myself,” he says, winks at Ronan, “I’ll jerk you off though,” he offers, and Ronan grins at him. 

 

“By that,” he says, “you mean you’ll jerk my dick that you’re wearing off, right?” 

 

“Yup,” Adam says with a grin, “you can shower in the downstairs bathroom.” 

 

“Fine,” Ronan concedes. 

 

-

 

Ronan is very much aware of how fucking sexy Adam’s body is. He has been for years. He’s been very intimately aware of this. It’s one thing to get to touch and kiss and hold and look at it, and another thing entirely to be it. He’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to get turned on by looking at yourself in the mirror, but here he is with a hard fucking dick. 

 

“Well fuck,” he says to no one in particular, “I guess this is good research.” 

 

-

 

They spend the evening catching up more, seeing as Adam had only just gotten home and they’d spent most of their time so far fucking. Ronan cooks dinner - spag bol - and Adam sits at the table and makes a salad, and they chat. They decide not to tell Gansey and the others yet, mostly because at this juncture it means that they’ll have to tell them that their plan involves going back into the forest and fucking, and also they would have to say they got into this problem because the forest saw dick in ass and mistook it for swapping bodies. So. They’ll tell them if everything else fails, or, alternatively (better) once they’ve fixed it and they can laugh about it and gross everyone else out. They talk about Adam’s classes, and Adam’s friends, and Adam’s hopes and dreams, and about Ronan’s work on the farm, and Ronan’s ideas, and Ronan’s wants and desires. Then they do the dishes, leave the outside light on for Opal, and traipse upstairs to bed. 

 

Adam turns on the bedside lamp, and shifts it into a position he can stare into it easily from bed, and they strip off and get into bed, falling easily into each other’s arms. 

 

“This is odd,” Adam says after a few moments, “I can feel my dick on my leg.” 

 

“It’s a nice dick,” Ronan tells him, “I never realised just how sensitive your balls were, by the way.” 

 

Adam snorts, “That’s because if I told you, I was worried you’d have them in your mouth the whole time.” 

 

“You’re so fucking weird,” Ronan replies, reaches down and squeezes his (Adam’s) balls, “but fucking hell, you shoulda told me.” 

 

“God,” Adam says, “stop touching me.” 

 

“I’m not touching you,” Ronan retorts with a grin, then, “did you find anything new and exciting about my body?” 

 

“Everything about your body is exciting,” Adam says, “I uh - I fingered myself a bit. To clean the cum out. I’m pretty sure your prostate is more sensitive than mine.” 

 

“Might be because it just got fucked,” Ronan grins at him, “but yeah, maybe.” 

 

“It felt really weird,” Adam continues, “uh - jerking you off - me off - you off - without  _ you _ there.” 

 

“Tell me about it,” Ronan says, “I was touching your dick, and all I could think about was how I wanted to hear you feeling good.” 

 

“We need to stop talking about this,” Adam tells him, “because we need to sleep and you are really turning me on.” 

 

“We could fuck and then sleep?” Ronan suggests. 

 

“No,” Adam says firmly, “because I’m still kinda against fucking myself unless it’s for science.” 

 

“Fine,” Ronan sighs, “can we kiss a bit, though?” 

 

Adam looks at him, and then nods, “yeah. I wanna see how good I am at kissing.” 

 

“Don’t be a dick,” Ronan laughs, “it’ll still be me kissing, just your mouth.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “I wanna kiss you, yes, c’mere you fucker.” 

 

-

 

When Ronan rolls over to go to sleep, he leaves Adam staring intently at the lamp by the bed. Knows that when he wakes up in his dream, Adam will be there waiting for him. 

He’s not disappointed, when he opens his eyes in the dream version of Cabeswater 2.0 (slightly brighter, bigger, and weirder than the ‘real’ version), Adam is sitting cross legged by a stream waiting for him. He’s in his own body, and he smiles widely when he sees Ronan. A glance down at himself, and Ronan can see he too is back in his body. 

 

“So,” Ronan says, striding across the grass to sit down next to Adam, who immediately hooks his arm around his waist and pulls him closer, “all it took was dreaming with intention, huh?” 

 

“Looks like it,” Adam smiles back at him. 

 

-

 

When he wakes up the next morning, it’s to a deep seated hunger in his stomach, a slight ache in his neck, and the very strange feeling of hearing nothing at all. It takes opening his eyes and seeing his own sleeping face in front of him to realise that no, the world had not suddenly been muted. He was still in Adam’s body, and he was sleeping on the hearing ear. He sighs, then rolls over onto his back, sound flooding back in, and reaches over to nudge Adam’s arm gently. 

 

“Baby,” he says, “wake up.” 

 

Adam grunts, then shifts, then opens one eye, shuts it, and then snaps both eyes open quickly and groans. 

 

“It didn’t work,” Ronan says, “I guess - I guess we were in our own bodies in the dream because - well. It’s a dream.” 

 

Adam sighs, then shuffles a little until he’s pressed up against Ronan’s side. “Yeah,” he agrees, “God. Ok. Plan 2?” 

 

“Yes,” Ronan says, “breakfast first. So much breakfast.” 

-

 

Opal greets them outside Cabeswater when they approach it. Her hooves are muddy, and she explains joyfully how she’d gotten up super early so she could run through mud puddles left by the midnight rain. Ronan tells her that’s cool, and then asks her to please vacate the forest. Opal pouts, but obeys, disappears somewhere else. 

 

They stand in the middle of the forest, and take turns asking Cabeswater in various ways, in english, in Latin, to turn them back. 

 

Eventually, Adam turns to Ronan, eyebrows raised, and says, “Ok. Time to fuck?” 

 

“God,” Ronan snorts, “you make it sound so romantic.” 

 

Adam shrugs, but grins, and then says; “Question.” 

 

“Answer,” Ronan replies unhelpfully. Adam elbows him. 

 

“Do I fuck you? Or do you fuck me? Will Cabeswater want it in reverse? Will it want it the same?” 

 

“Um,” Ronan says, “I… don’t know? I kinda - I was kinda thinking that I’d fuck you. Which, well, like, it would be the same and also the reverse, y’know?” 

 

“Both ways would be the same and the reverse,” Adam points out, “but ok. Let’s do that. We can always try the other way if it doesn’t work out.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan says, grins lecherously, and Adam elbows him again. 

 

“Focus,” he says, not seriously, “this is science.” 

 

“This is magic,” Ronan replies. 

 

-

 

They go to the clearing they had been in the day before, strip down like they had, except this time Ronan very carefully does not throw his shirt into the pond. 

They ask Cabeswater for lube (honestly he’s never telling Gansey this part because he thinks Gansey would throw a fit at him for asking for something so  _ base _ from a place like this) because they both think there’s no point in adding any more variables to this. Who knows, maybe Cabeswater lube was the magic ingredient. 

This time, Ronan is the one to slick his fingers up. They position themselves, Adam on his back on the ground, because he prefers this to hands and knees, his legs propped up on Ronan’s shoulders while Ronan fingers him, and then lifts him by the hips to sink into. 

 

He has to not think about it too much, because if he does, the fact that he’s fucking himself is too fucking weird. He is enjoying getting to fuck with Adam’s dick, though, so there was that. They fuck hard and fast, until Adam’s pressing his hands against his chest, and gasping out something about how they should slow down because last time it was a bit slower, and Ronan nods, pushes them down until they’re lying together stomach to stomach, Adam’s legs hitched up over Ronan’s hip while he fucks him slow and they kiss hard, and Adam’s hand is on his cock, pumping himself until he spills all over Ronan’s stomach. Ronan follows, shortly after, spurred on by Adam clenching and spasming around him. 

 

“We should nap,” Adam mumbles, voice rough and raw from his harsh exhales, “get your dick out of my ass and spoon me. We should nap.” 

 

“Mm,” Ronan replies, shuffles backwards so he can drag himself out, and then pulls himself back to press up against Adam to hold him. “If this doesn’t work,” he starts to say, and Adam shakes his head to cut him off. 

 

“Don’t say that yet,” he warns, “we’ll deal with it if it happens. Ok?”

 

“Ok.” Ronan agrees. 

 

They nap. 

 

-

 

When Ronan wakes up, the fucking root is pressed in against his back again, and Adam is sprawled over him like a blanket. Which is how he had fallen asleep on top of Adam. So. Stands to reason. He opens his eyes, sees Adam’s curly hair brushing up against his chin. 

 

“Babe,” he says loudly, “baby, wake up.” 

 

Adam groans, grunts, shifts, doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m back in my body,” he says. 

 

“Yes,” Ronan says, bends his neck to kiss him gently. 

 

“I can’t hear again,” Adam says, opens his eyes, “kiss me properly.” 

 

Ronan kisses him properly. 

 

“That was like, the one thing that was… good about that,” Adam mumbles, sitting up slowly and stretching, “being able to hear.” 

 

“Well,” Ronan says carefully, sitting up as well and plastering himself back against Adam’s skin, “you’re welcome to borrow my body again whenever you like.” 

 

Adam laughs, turns in his arms and kisses him again, “in your dreams,” he says. 


	6. Not limited to neck kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunderstorms//Indulgence
> 
> “I just -” Adam mumbles, lips brushing Ronan’s skin, “I’m so tired of being… being lonely.”

Very few things convinced Adam to stay overnight at Monmouth. Gansey tried quite often, saying things like; ‘it’s late Adam, you should stay’, or, ‘you’re coming over tomorrow morning anyway, you should stay’, or, ‘your lights are out? Just stay here tonight!’. It was well intentioned, he knew, but he still didn’t like it, didn’t appreciate it, didn’t say yes. 

Tonight, however, was a night in which Adam very begrudgingly accepted Gansey’s invitation to stay the night. Not because Adam had changed his mind about what he did and didn’t want to give up to Gansey, but because the thunderstorm outside was strong enough he was about 87% sure that if he tried to bike back to St Agnes he would be blown off his bike and wouldn’t land until he was somewhere in New Zealand. So. He had agreed to stay. He had agreed to sleep in Noah’s room, because Noah had offered, and Adam isn’t in the habit of turning Noah down. 

So. He stays up in the lounge with Gansey doing homework, which is fine, and then they stay up a little later playing random racing games on the playstation with Ronan. Noah doesn’t play, but he heckles everyone. Gansey makes popcorn, and they eat about half, and chuck the other half at each other. The power goes out, and Gansey laughs, fetches everyone torches, and suggests that that was the universe telling them to go to bed. Adam takes a shower before bed, changes into an oversized shirt that Ronan had chucked at him wordlessly, and gets into the cold, pristine bed that a ghost had pretended to sleep in for a year or so. 

 

He can’t sleep. He thinks, for a while, that it’s because the storm is loud and heavy around them, but that’s not it. He’s used to storms sounding even louder, because everywhere else he’s lived the ceiling has been thinner, and he’s been closer to the roof, and everything had rattled and shook around him, but here? The rain is far away and it’s an almost soothing sound rather than a jarring rattling. So. That’s not it. He thinks, for a while, that it’s the strange bed, but honestly, he can sleep anywhere, and he can absolutely definitely sleep in a bed this fucking comfortable, even if it was owned by a ghost. 

 

“Hey,” Noah says behind him, and Adam almost fucking shits the bed. 

 

“Holy shit, Noah,” Adam groans, rolling over, “warn a guy?” 

 

“I mean,” Noah says, “you’re in my bed.” 

 

“Well, yeah,” Adam protests, “but still.” 

 

“You’re upset,” Noah says bluntly. He had been standing by the door, as if he’d walked through the doorway, even though Adam knows the door is shut and hasn’t been opened. He walks across the room, or, he appears by the bed, and sits down on the edge of it. 

 

“Maybe,” Adam admits, “I don’t know why.” 

 

“Are you,” Noah starts, “mad at Gansey?” 

 

Adam considers. “I don’t know,” he says eventually. 

 

“You know,” Noah says, “he’s not trying to own you -” 

 

“I know,” Adam says, then, “well. I know he doesn’t think he is. He just wants all his pieces in his box.” 

 

“No,” Noah says, “I think it’s more like he wants all his pieces close by -” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, “so that he can make sure he knows exactly what they’re up to, and so he can put them where he wants.” He’s almost ashamed at himself for how quickly his bitterness can rise in him, like vomit in his throat. 

 

Noah’s hand is cold on his shoulder. 

 

“No,” he says again, “more like a puzzle. Don’t you think? Like, a jigsaw puzzle. We’re all part of the puzzle, and Gansey doesn’t - he can’t feel whole unless all his pieces are here. That’s what I think, anyway.” 

 

Adam kind of hates hearing this, because it makes his bitterness taste even worse in his mouth, because, yeah, he understands, and yeah, that does make more sense than his own theories on why Gansey likes having everyone under the same roof. 

 

“Sorry,” Adam mumbles, “I don’t know why I’m - why I just - immediately go to the negatives.” 

 

Noah shrugs. “Was that why you were upset?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, knows now that it wasn’t. “It kind of is now, though. ‘Cos I feel bad about Gans.” 

 

Noah laughs. He shuffles down on the bed so he’s lying shoulder to shoulder with Adam. “Why are you upset?” 

 

Adam considers. 

 

“I’m lonely,” he says. 

 

Noah looks at him, eyebrow raised, dark smudge darker. 

 

“I’m right here,” he says, “rude.” 

 

Adam elbows him gently. “That’s not what I mean,” he says, careful, “I mean - I was - I was actually like. Stupidly happy when all of us were together in the lounge. LIke. I get what you were saying about Gansey and puzzle pieces, because, yeah. Me too. And - I’m always alone. You know. I’m alone at St Agnes, and I was alone at the… the trailer, and, I’m  _ here _ but I’m alone right now and -” 

 

“Again,” Noah says, “I’m right here, dude. So rude.” 

 

Adam rolls onto his side, flings his arm over Noah’s chilly waist. “I mean,” Adam says, “I’m really glad you’re here, with me. I’m less lonely now you’re here. I just - I want more. I always want more.” 

 

Noah sighs, tips his head to the side to look Adam in the eyes, “horny?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Adam snorts, and Noah bursts out laughing. 

 

“No shame in it,” Noah cackles, “but I can’t help you out, sorry, man, my hands are too cold for satisfactory hand jobs.” 

 

“God,” Adam groans, rolls over and away from Noah, “you’re such a little shit, Czerny.” 

 

“You love me,” Noah says cheerfully. 

 

“Yes,” Adam agrees. 

 

“But you want more,” Noah continues. “You want more. You’re still lonely, even with me here.” 

 

Adam is silent for a while. Uncertain on how to proceed. How to respond. 

 

“Yes,’ He says, eventually. 

 

“You don’t have to be lonely,” Noah tells him. His voice soft, faint almost. 

 

“Don’t do a Gansey,” Adam sighs, “I know it comes from a good place, Noah, but I can’t move in here.” 

 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Noah says, “but you could, you know.” He’s slowly starting to sound fainter, and Adam rolls over again to face him. Noah looks a little sad. “You never have to be alone.” 

 

“Noah,” Adam says. He wants to wrap his arms back around Noah, but he doesn’t want him to disappear right in Adam’s arms. “Noah, are you ok?” 

 

Noah grins at him, shrugs, disappears. 

 

-

 

It takes Adam another ten minutes of lying in Noah’s bed feeling disgruntled and vague and upset before he makes his mind up. Decides to indulge himself. Noah is right, at least for right now, for tonight, that he doesn’t need to be alone. Doesn’t need to be lonely. 

 

When he moves through the main room, he can hear Gansey snoring, so he doesn’t pause, doesn’t want to wake Gansey from something he doesn’t get enough of. Instead, he carries on to Ronan’s room, pauses outside it for just long enough that Ronan, if he was awake and if he wasn’t wearing his huge ass headphones, would know that someone was lurking outside. Then he knocks. 

 

Chainsaw replies first, a long soft caw, and then Ronan. 

 

“Fucking what,” he grunts, and Adam pushes the door open. “Fucking  _ what _ ,” Ronan repeats croakily. He’s tangled up in his sheets, is turning grumpily around to look at the door. “Adam?” 

 

“Hey,” Adam says. Doesn’t move from the doorway. 

 

“What?” Ronan asks, “Am I asleep still?” 

 

“No,” Adam says, “or, I don’t think so. Can I stay here tonight.” 

 

“You are staying here,” Ronan frowns at him. 

 

“I mean,” Adam says, rolling his eyes, “In here. In your room. With you. Payback for all the times you’ve slept over at mine.” 

 

Ronan stares at him, eyes narrowed. “I’m dreaming,” he says. 

 

“No,” Adam says, “definitely not. Can I or can’t I?” 

 

Ronan looks at him a little longer, and then grunts, and throws his blanket back. “Come on then,” he says, “get in.” 

 

Adam had been expecting the floor. But, he supposed Ronan’s bed is much bigger than Adam’s at St Agnes. So. He doesn’t let himself hesitate in the doorway. He steps inside, shuts the door again behind him, and then picks his way by moonlight to Ronan’s bed. He climbs up carefully, sliding himself under the body warmed blankets and against Ronan’s side. 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan hisses, whole body shuddering, “your feet are cold.” 

 

Adam presses them firmly against Ronan’s calves, tugs the blanket up over his shoulders. 

 

They lie in silence for a while, silence save for the rain on the window and the roof, and their mixed breathing. Ronan breaks it. 

 

“You good?” he asks. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says. 

 

Silence. 

 

“Just,” Ronan says, “it’s like. 3AM.” 

 

“You want me to go?” Adam asks. 

 

“No,” Ronan says. He shifts beside Adam, and then, throws his arm over Adam’s waist, “you’re here to heat me up.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, easily. 

 

“Seriously, Parrish,” Ronan says, “what’s fucking eating you?” 

 

“Nothing,” Adam replies, “just - just - can I just have this? Just tonight?” 

 

“Have what?” Ronan asks, sounding suspicious. 

 

Adam isn’t 100% sure he knows exactly what he’s asking for either. He knows he wants this. He wants to be here. With Ronan. Not being alone. He still wants  _ more _ but that’s harder to define. This is enough. 

 

“Just being here,” Adam mumbles against Ronan’s pillow, “getting to just - feel like I - belong. Or whatever. Just here.” He doubles his bet. “With you.” 

 

Ronan swallows. “You do fucking belong here,” he says, harsh. 

 

Adam doesn’t reply, he just shifts until more of their skin is pressed together, until he can tip his head against Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan’s arm over his waist, so carefully casual at first, is shifting, his hand gripping tightly at Adam’s shirt, pulling him closer. 

 

“You can fucking have this whenever,” Ronan says, “whenever the hell you want.” 

 

He can’t. This is an indulgence. An indulgence granted by a thunderstorm and a ghost. But it’s so fucking good hearing Ronan say it. He presses his face hard against the bare skin of Ronan’s neck, breathes in. 

 

“Adam,” Ronan says, and he sounds uncertain, and raw. 

 

“Please,” Adam mumbles. 

 

“Adam,” Ronan repeats, his fingers clenching and unclenching against Adam’s back. 

 

Adam kisses his neck, just a light kiss, but he can feel Ronan go taut all around him, can feel his adam’s apple jumping up and down beneath Adam’s lips. 

 

“Adam,” Ronan says for the third time. 

 

“I just -” Adam mumbles, lips brushing Ronan’s skin, “I’m so tired of being… being lonely.” 

 

Ronan’s breathing is nearly ragged. He can feel Ronan’s lungs shifting against Adam’s chest. He’s not being pushed away. He wasn’t sure if he would be or not. It wasn’t like he doubted that Ronan had feelings for him, he just wasn’t sure if Ronan would appreciate those feelings being acted on. And Adam was acting on them in a big way right now, wrapped around him in Ronan’s bed, with his lips to Ronan’s throat. It was a gamble, and so far, it had paid off. 

 

“I -” Ronan says, swallows again hard, and then, lets go of Adam’s shirt, and shifts so his hands are pressed flat against Adam’s chest. He pushes them away, not far, just enough that he can look down at Adam’s face. “I can’t do this if it’s a just for tonight, thing,” he says brokenly, “I can’t. I don’t want - I don’t want you to be fucking lonely, Parrish, but I can’t be your one night fixer.” 

 

Adam considers him. Considers the look of half beaten down hope on his face. Considers the way Ronan’s fingers are curling in around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer even as he holds him away. Considers how much he wants to just give in. To indulge. To let this be a thing that he doesn’t think of as indulgence. He’s so tired of being lonely. And alone. When he doesn’t need to be. 

 

“You’re not a one night thing,” Adam tells him, “me staying here, at Monmouth, that’s a one night thing. Me wanting to be in your arms. That’s not.” 

 

Ronan looks at him, then says; “can I kiss you? Or are we limited to neck kisses?” 

 

“You can fucking kiss me,” Adam says. 


	7. Stars. Can't do it. Not today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midnight

Ronan loves Adam Parrish for a multitude of reasons. He admires him for around about the same amount of reasons. He’s almost always proud of him. He admires how smart Adam is, how quick witted, how funny, how able, how fucking hot, how careful. He admires how Adam tries so hard, he admires how quickly Adam can go to sleep, he admires how Adam has so much capacity to love. 

 

At midnight, however, when Ronan has been tossing and turning since he’d gotten under his covers, the fact that Adam is fast asleep next to him, and has been since  _ he _ had gotten under his covers, was something that pissed Ronan off a lot more than it ought to. 

 

His stupid dumb fucking boyfriend. Just lying there. With his stupidly hot fucking smug asleep face. Getting all that dumb rest. Which he needed and deserved, and all that shit. But Ronan? Nope. Ronan gets to lie here, restless, awake, bored, maybe a little horny, alone. He wants to poke Adam. To tickle him awake. Or maybe, kiss him awake. Or maybe murder squash him awake. But. He won’t. Because. He fucking loves his boyfriend, and also, his fucking boyfriend may very well murder him if Ronan wakes him up simply for the fact that he’s bored. 

 

However. He knows all too well that if he stays here in bed being bored and restless he will wake Adam up, either accidentally or on purpose. So. He gets up. He pads downstairs. He doesn’t even know what he wants to do now that he’s done here. He wants to be with Adam. He’s just as bored here as he was upstairs. Fucking hell. He has a glass of water. He goes outside to watch the stars shift slowly. He jumps like a fucking startled cat when the door opens behind him and Adam appears, rubbing his eyes. 

 

“Holy fucking ghost,” Ronan gasps, “you almost gave me a heart attack, shit head.” 

 

“Sorry,” Adam grumbles, drops his hand from his eyes. “What’re you doing?” 

 

“Star watching,” Ronan replies, “what the fuck are you doing?” 

 

“I missed you,” Adam mumbles. He’s wrapping his arms around himself, shivering in the night air. “You weren’t in bed with me.” 

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ronan says, “didn’t wanna wake you.” 

 

Adam looks at him. “I’m awake now,” he says, not a complain, “come back to bed?” 

 

“You gonna go right back to sleep?” Ronan asks, going to Adam anyway, wrapping his arms around him in an effort to warm him up. 

 

“Probably,” Adam admits, his head drooping against Ronan’s chest, “why can’t you sleep?” 

 

“Stars,” Ronan mumbles, “can’t do it. Not today.” 

 

“What?” Adam mumbles. 

 

“I’m showing you a movie tomorrow,” Ronan says, “let’s go back to bed, then. C’mon.” 

 

“Mm,” Adam says, lifts his arms to loop around Ronan’s neck, and Ronan after a seconds thought, shifts his own grip so he can lifts Adam up. 

 

Adam wraps his legs around Ronan’s waist, rests his head on Ronan’s shoulder. He’s nowhere near fucking light, or small, or easy to carry, but God. He’s warm, and cuddly, and wanting to be held and carried, so, fuck yes Ronan is about to carry him upstairs and back to bed. 

 

They make it with a hell of a lot of huffing and puffing on Ronan’s behalf, and vaguely scared noises on Adam’s, and then Ronan drops him back down onto the bed, and Adam bounces a little, swears a little, and then reaches back up to Ronan, so Ronan also drops himself down onto the bed. 

 

Adam tugs him up against his chest wraps himself around him. 

 

“Just can’t sleep?” He asks, “Or is it somethin’ else? I’ll stay awake with you if you want.” 

 

“Just can’t sleep,” Ronan assures him, “I’m fine.” 

 

“I love you,” Adam mumbles, “y’can always wake me up if y’need me.” 

 

Ronan snorts, kisses him. His boyfriend’s already going the fuck back to sleep. 

 

“Thanks baby,” he says, “do you want me to stay here with you?” 

 

“Mmhm,” Adam mumbles. He’s asleep a-fucking-gain. Because, he’s amazingly skilled. Or whatever. 

 

Midnights could be worse.


	8. Ethan Parrish was a strange creature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Free choice - Ethan Parrish
> 
> For those of you who don't know, Ethan is my OC from my multichapter (and ongoing) fic 'Felt Like You Were Mine'. 
> 
> You can read it here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/12478352 
> 
> This is set about 6 years in the future from FLYWM

Ethan Parrish was a strange creature. He was tall and slim, especially for a ten year old, and oddly mannered. He could be soft and quiet in one moment, and bigger than a volcano in the next. All his teachers agreed he was a delight, but, yes, a strange delight. His interests and hobbies were so widely varied, sometimes they joked that he was actually a set of twins, one quiet, one loud, both with their own wide set of likes, because, Ethan Parrish liked languages; not just  _ normal  _ ones, but Latin as well as Korean, as well as Gaelic. Odd for a young American boy. Ethan Parrish liked history; especially ancient history, he couldn’t care less about the lessons about tanks and the like such as his classmates who ran around after class shooting fake guns, he wanted to know about myths, and about kings, and about space as well, like an afterthought. Ethan Parrish like maths, he liked the puzzles of it, he liked science, he liked plants, and growth, and sunlight, and drawing, and running, and splashing, and swimming, and music. 

 

Ethan Parrish’s oddities were not limited to who he was as a person though, even his family was odd. His family was mysterious as well. Mysterious in a few ways. Mysterious because it was difficult to figure out exactly how it worked, and mysterious because his family just had a strange… vibe. A mysterious vibe. There is no good way to explain it without sounding a little nutty. 

 

First of all, Ethan does not appear to have a mother, or a father, or grandparents, or aunts, or uncles. He has his brother. Adam Parrish. He is the only official family member here. Or, well. No. There’s also Ronan Lynch, who is also listed as his brother, but, as his Brother-in-law, because. Well. He’s married to Adam Parrish. Which yes, it makes him Ethan’s brother, but it  _ doesn’t _ , surely. However, that is who he lives with. His brother, and his  _ brother _ , and as far as his teachers can tell, he’s extremely happy with them, extremely loved with them, extremely well educated with them. 

The first time Ethan’s school had become acquainted with his guardians had been an odd experience. Odd, because in trotted this young freckled boy, a backpack on, each hand held by a tall man. One, Adam Parrish, looks like the older, fuller version of Ethan. He’s strong looking, tan, freckled, calm, yet somehow looks as if he’s bubbling over (with joy/mischief/delight). The other, Ronan Lynch, looks nothing like either of the Parrish’s, which is probably good. He’s a little taller than his husband. A little wider at the shoulders, a little skinnier at the waist. His hair, what there is of it, is dark, cropped right at his skull, and his ears are dotted with jewellery. His face is one of the oddest parts about him, because at rest, he looks maybe a little like he might murder someone, but, when faced with Adam, or Ethan, he is suddenly sunshine itself. The second oddest part about Ronan Lynch is the fact that on his shoulder sits a fucking large bird, a bird, which Ethan calls to his own, much too small shoulder, refers affectionately to it as Chainsaw, and offers it half a biscuit. None of this was a normal experience. What was normal though, or, should be normal, was the way Adam and Ronan treated Ethan. The softness in which they handled him as they said goodbye to him at the school. A kiss from both of them, a kiss for both of them, a kiss for Chainsaw. A very serious sounding promise that all Ethan had to do was text or call and one of them would be there to pick him up. Immediately. Always. Always. 


End file.
